


hostile architecture

by puddingandpie



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Art Curator!Even, Breaking Up & Making Up, Businessman!Isak, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 19:59:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puddingandpie/pseuds/puddingandpie
Summary: hostile architecture - the design of buildings or public spaces in a way which discourages people from touching, climbing or sitting on them, with the intention of avoiding damage or use for a different purpose.Hostile Architecture is a joint exhibition by the Helsinki Art Museum in Finland and the Hong Kong Museum of Art, bringing together works from all over the globe as a powerful representation of the way that your environment can shape the way you develop relationships with other people, and the way that being trapped isn’t necessarily limited to a physical space.Featuring works from Hans and Nora Heysen, Sidney Nolan, Art Vanderlay and Hilda Rix Nicholas, this exhibition is not to be missed.It’s been almost four years now. Four years since he left Oslo. Four years since he uprooted his life. Four years since.tldr; life tore isak and even apart. an art gallery brings them back together





	hostile architecture

**Author's Note:**

> hello! me again, back writing for the skam reverse big bang!
> 
> there are two pieces of artwork for this fic, one for each chapter, and both have been done by the lovely and very talented martha, whom you can find [here!](https://meonlymine.tumblr.com/)
> 
> there is also a playlist to go along with it, created by the wonderful chelsea, which very heavily inspired the writing of this fic, which you can find [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/chelseabergman7/playlist/1TX0BY5DBKlk4KyUVfc895?si=xNWaBD2FThWQwNHTMG6-iQ)
> 
> i hope you all enjoy <3

Tokyo has almost two million more people living in it than Hong Kong does, but Hong Kong has always felt like the busier city, especially to Isak. The way that over seven million people have managed to expertly cram themselves into two and a half thousand square kilometers is ridiculous, but in the best way. It’s the kind of ridiculousness that only humans could ever be capable of, with their colossal desire for life in even the harshest of places.

He’s only been here once before, and that trip was only a weekend where he barely had an opportunity to leave the hotel. Now, he has a week, and even though he’s going to be working for most of it, there’s still time for him to see a country he’s never seen before. If he’s honest, it’s quite exciting.

Isak didn’t expect to end up where he was in life. When he was in high school it seemed like medicine was it, with his penchant for biology and all, and then when medicine fell through he still kind of assumed that he would end up somewhere in science. He dropped out of biochemistry part way through first semester, and picked up law and commerce like every other boy his age who was trying to get a leg up into joining Daddy’s prestigious law firm.

The thing he didn’t expect the most was that he was going to be doing all of this without Even.

Isak likes to think that the breakup was amicable, that it was because life was pulling them in different directions. That it was just because they had both gotten the job offers of their lives, and that they needed to move on without each other. That was what his head had to say on the matter. He didn’t ever listen to what his heart said.

He takes a deep breath, mentally cataloguing all the things he has to get done on this trip in a half hearted attempt to get his mind off Even; the meeting with Debbie and Shirley about the project in Taiwan, a discussion with his boss about whether they should look at expanding their range into the Philippines and whether that is going to be a financially viable option with all the corruption that is currently in that country.

Isak likes his job. It’s all spreadsheets and budgets, but he likes the people he works with, likes the new environment he’s in. He didn’t expect to be here when he graduated high school, but he’s here all the same.

The taxi pulls up out the front of the Mandarin Oriental, which is smack bang in the middle of the business district, and near every place that Isak is going to need to be over the next week or so. No one asks to take his bags, but they disappear from the back of the cab all the same. The efficiency here is absolutely unbelievable, the city always on the move, and before he knows it, he’s standing at the check in desk, presenting his passport to a lady who is much too cheery for a little past midnight.

 

“You know the train system is much more efficient here than cabs are. A lot cheaper too,” Marie says, uncrossing her arms and moving over to him as he steps outside of the cab at the front of the One Island East building.

“I only know what this place is called,” Isak replies, “not which district it is in. I took one look at that ticket machine and then immediately flagged down a cab.”

“You could have just googled it.”

“And potentially waste valuable work time fucking around trying to get here?” Isak says, shrugging his shoulders dramatically. Marie was a French expat who used to work with him in the Tokyo office, but got a transfer out to Hong Kong a few months ago so her kids could go to school there instead. She was the one in the office who would print out little Norwegian flags on May 17th, and Isak would do the same for her on July 14th.

It takes them two elevators to get to their floor; one to the 30th floor and then another to the 49th. It’s there where he has to get a print out of his ID so that he can get into the places that he needs to be. The receptionist doesn’t even bother to maintain the polite smalltalk that Isak is used to, instead asking for his name and then going about her business with the same cold efficiency that allows this part of the world to run as well as it does.

He doesn’t notice it at first, the painting behind the receptionist’s desk that takes up a good two thirds of the back wall. It doesn’t seem out of place in the office, the simplicity of the lines blending well with the almost yellowy grey walls. He half-heartedly wishes that he knew more about art, because he wants to be able to explain the painting and the environment in a manner that describes the painting the way he can describe it in his head.

It looks like people, one holding the other back. Isak wonders halfheartedly if it is supposed to be someone who is holding someone back from reaching their full potential, or whether it is a lover, who desperately wants someone to stay.

 

 

_“Isak,” Even groans, elongating the ‘a’ in the middle of Isak’s name. “Come back to bed.”_

_It’s a Friday. Friday has always been their lazy morning, where they lounge around until nine, entranced with each other, waiting until the very last moment to get out of bed. They both have to be at work by nine, which means that Even can drop Isak off on the way instead of leaving him to catch the train. It’s not a flawless arrangement by any means—they’ve sped across town with less than twenty minutes to spare more times than Isak can count—but the memories of sleepy good morning kisses and laughter during their drive to work are some of his fondest._

_Isak sighs, reaching for his top button to do it up. “I have places to be Even.”_

_Even rolls around on the bed so that he can make eye contact with Isak through the mirror. “Surely you can spare five more minutes.”_

_His words are simple but his eyes are begging, pleading for Isak to stay. The cracks are small but they’re there, and if Isak walks out that door and to work, he knows that one of those cracks is going to get that much bigger._

_“You never used to leave this early.” His voice is small. Isak can feel where the crack is now, sitting gently at the top of his heart._ _  
_ _His head and his heart are at war again. They seem to always be at war where Even is concerned. “I have to be in early today. There’s a meeting with Singapore about a new project there.”_

_“Are you sure you can’t wait around for ten minutes while I cook you breakfast at least? You can take it on the train on the way in?”_

_Isak sighs. “I have go to Even.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“See you tonight?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_Isak presses a quick kiss to Even, his heart exponentially increasing in pain the longer he lingers. He loves Even, he’ll always love Even, but he can feel the way that his heart is breaking. He wants to go back to the start._

 

He’s still staring at the painting when the receptionist slides his freshly printed badge over the counter. It’s Marie who jolts him out of it, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. She opens her mouth to say something, but takes notice of his facial expression and instead thinks better of it, narrowing her eyes and shooting him a quizzical look.

“The painting–” Isak starts, not exactly knowing where his train of thought is going. Marie, much to his relief, catches on immediately.

“Yeah, it’s kind of new. It’s on loan from the Hong Kong Museum of Art as a kind of promotion thing, because we’re sponsoring an exhibition from–– I don’t know, somewhere in Scandinavia, I think? This is the sister piece to one of the feature pieces in the exhibition, and because we’re one of the main sponsors, we get it.”

Isak can’t be held responsible for the way that his heart begins to race in his chest, the way that his hands clam up almost immediately. Scandinavia is the region, an immensely large one at that, but somewhere in that region is _the_ art museum, the Helsinki Art Museum in Finland. He wants to ask her whether she knows specifically whether it is from, whether it is Finland or not, but the quizzical look fades as she turns her focus back to business.

“Are you all ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah,” Isak stutters out, forcing himself back into his own head and away from the painting on the wall. There are a few security doors he has to get through before he can get to where he’ll be working for the next week, and as he is guided there, Marie begins to make small talk with him.

“You like art?”

“My uh– one of my exes has a degree in art history. An enjoyment for art kind of rubbed off on me.”

She raises an eyebrow. “But not a _love_ for art.”

Isak shrugs. “Some of its good. Some of it is just weird, or takes about the same amount of skill and effort as a toddler who spilt paint on a canvas and then their parents decided to frame it on the fridge.”

Marie gestures out to the office space, filled with a handful of desks arranged at various angles around the room. It makes Isak’s fingers twitch with the urge to rearrange them into straight lines and bring a sense of orderliness to the room. “Pick a desk any desk. There aren’t any set ones here anymore.”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Yeah, the whole community office thing. I heard about that. Didn’t really take off in Japan, surprise surprise. Bet you miss having all your photos up everywhere.”

“Not really actually. Didn’t realise how hard it was to work in a messy office until I wasn’t in a messy office. Now all I bring to work is my laptop and maybe a few files I need.” She claps her hands on the top of the monitor on the desk. “Get yourself sorted, check your emails and destress for a couple minutes. I’ll come back to grab you for the meeting with corporate in a bit, okay?”

“Cool.”

There is one desk in the corner that catches his eye immediately, and although it has the least amount of available desk space, his back is too the wall at least, and that means that he can almost immediately say a big fuck it to work and satisfy his curiosity, just so that he can at least get it out of his system.

_hostile architecture -_ _the design of buildings or public spaces in a way which discourages people from touching, climbing or sitting on them, with the intention of avoiding damage or use for a different purpose_ _._

_Hostile Architecture is a joint exhibition by the Helsinki Art Museum in Finland and the Hong Kong Museum of Art, bringing together works from all over the globe as a powerful representation of the way that your environment can shape the way you develop relationships with other people, and the way that being trapped isn’t necessarily limited to a physical space._

_Featuring works from_ _Hans and Nora Heysen, Sidney Nolan, Art Vanderlay and Hilda Rix Nicholas, this exhibition is not to be missed._

It’s been almost four years now. Four years since he left Oslo. Four years since he uprooted his life. Four years since.

Isak sighs, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands up to rest his head in them. The Helsinki Art Museum, the HAM, was the place that uprooted his life for the first time, that forced the biggest wedge in between him and Even.

The last forty-eight hours Even and him spent together were filled with argument, about the two open envelopes that lay discarded on the kitchen table. One was postmarked Finland. The other, Seoul. They were two job offers, each one halfway around the globe. Within forty-eight hours of Isak getting the letter, he was on a plane to Korea with only a suitcase.

He knows that the HAM is the flimsiest connection to Even, but that isn’t the only thing there that makes Isak think of him. When he was in university, back after he dropped out of medicine and picked up law and commerce, he got a few lines of free electives where each semester he could pick a subject either connected or totally unrelated to his major and just do it, with no care for the grade at the end. These electives came at the peak of his relationship with Even, so it wasn’t much of a question that Isak was going to pick up some of Even’s more interesting classes.

DEVT2101, Community, Gender and Critical Development. Taken semester two of his second year. It was a compulsory part of Even’s anthropology minor, which Isak thought was interesting enough to pick up himself.

In DEVT2101, Even wrote one of his assignments on migratory patterns of a homeless population around a specific area and the impact that hostile architecture had on their grouping. It’s the flimsiest connection, bound together by the smallest coincidences. It’s barely anything to go off at all.

He has a meeting in five minutes anyways, and then after that another lunch meeting with a few people higher up the food chain than he, so there isn’t any point in grasping at loose straws. He knows all he can know. Perhaps he might just have to live with not knowing.

 

Isak has always been a very polar person. All of the decisions he has made in the entirety of his life have been made either completely with his head or completely with his heart. And his head knows that Even has nothing to do with the _Hostile Architecture_ exhibition, and that every little coincidence today that has made him think of Even is just that; a coincidence.

He skips the lunch meeting.

What else is he supposed to do? His natural curiosity is strong enough at the best of times, but Even is in the mix now. If Even is here, he has to know.

Isak has never thought of Even as an ex. He’s always just been the one that hasn’t come back yet.

It’s how he finds himself sitting in the back of a cab, driving through the underground tunnel connecting Hong Kong Island to the mainland and desperately scrolling through the Hong Kong Museum of Art website to see if they have any more information about the new exhibition than what he has already found, but the rest of the website seems to be in Chinese, and unlike on his laptop, his phone doesn’t have the language toggle button at the top.

_Surely,_ he thinks, _surely if Even is doing this then his name would be written in English._ But there is no Bech Næsheim anywhere on the page, and without knowing what subpages he’s looked at and which ones he hasn’t, it’s hard for him to keep track of what pages he’s already looked at. Eventually, he gives up on that quest, because Google Maps gave him the address at least, and that’s enough to get him there.

The routine click of the taxi meter every 200 metres or so is the only soundtrack to the car ride, and Isak doesn’t even have enough care in his body to notice when it goes over 100 and then 150. He just shoves 200 at the driver and scrambles out, wondering when he really got this desperate.

_“Take desperate to a whole new level.”_

The memory floats to the front of his head, and it makes him smile, thinking about the moment in the kollektiv kitchen where his friends and Even all coached Magnus through hooking up with Vilde for the first time. He’s suddenly hit with a pang of longing to go home and see them all, catch up and repair the friendships he has left neglected for too long.

He brings his eyes into focus, staring at the building in front of him. It’s barely ten stories high. It’s on the waterfront, sitting overlooking the island, and in contrast to all the fifty story buildings behind it, the art museum is extremely underwhelming.

The only relief is the small poster in one of the front windows, reading _Hostile Architecture,_ with one of the pieces of art from the exhibition as the background. Isak can feel the tension seep out of his shoulders as he takes a deep breath in, trying to steel his nerves.

 

The moment that he walks in the gallery, he knows. There’s nothing particular about the whole thing that stands out, but even the selection of art on the front wall and the ripped up shoe splayed out on a canvas; it all screams Even. He didn’t live with the man for over five years to not know his particular taste and style.

Even if Even isn’t actually in Hong Kong, this has to be his exhibition. The sense of calm that washes over Isak can’t be anything else.

Isak glances down at his phone quickly, just to see if he has any new emails or calls summoning him back to the office and to reassure himself that he still has time to kill here. It’s very clever how the rooms are arranged too, with the winding path that shows the only way through the museum combining with the open gallery spaces to showcase all of the works.

He appreciates all the works a lot more than he thought he would. Maybe Even’s taste in art rubbed off on him more than he thought.

It’s weird, his reaction to Even. Before he even knows that the man is behind him, Isak feels each individual cell go into overdrive, his whole body setting itself alight in preparation.

“What do you think?”

Isak jumps, taking a step back and facing him. “Holy shit, Even.”

Even ducks his head sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck in the way that Isak still finds endearing. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” They both know it’s a lie.

Even raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Isak says, rolling his eyes and then immediately deflecting. “So– this is all yours huh?”

Even smiles, glancing back down at the floor. “How did you know?”

“Hostile architecture,” Isak replies simply, matching Even’s small smile.

“You remember that?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “We took that class together, idiot. It was all you went on about for weeks, and in that tiny apartment it’s pretty obvious that I know just as much about the subject as you. Well, maybe not anymore.”

“But that’s the whole reason why you thought I was working here?”

Isak shoots Even a quizzical look. “Why? Is there something else?”

It’s a testament to how much Isak has missed Even that he knows that Even’s immediate denial is a lie, but the almost four years that now sit between them is too big of a gap for Isak to jump and confront him about it. “No,” Even says, changing tack. “What brings you to Hong Kong?”

“Just a few work meetings.”

“Still in Korea?”

“Tokyo, actually. I was in Seoul for a bit, straight after I left Oslo, but a bigger job came up in Osaka and so I moved to the Japan office.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Less than twenty-four hours.”

“Did you know I was involved in this? Is that why you’re here?”

“In Hong Kong? No, it was a coincidence actually. There was a painting in the lobby of my office that reminded me of you, so I wanted to come and see the exhibition. You know, chase the feeling we used to have.”

If Isak had enough bravery left in him, maybe he would have been looking at Even as he said the words, watched as a cacophony of shock and surprise and embarrassment and a little bit of love flitted over his face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Even doesn’t reply, just turning to face the painting in front of them.

“This one is from Montreal, in Canada, by an artist named…” Even sighs, his body tensing up. “Can we stop being awkward?”

“We aren’t being awkward. We’re just engaging in small talk.” Isak protests.

“Then let’s say fuck it to small talk. Come to lunch with me.”

“I can’t. I’m working for the rest of the day,” Isak says, purposefully excluding talking about the lunch time meeting that he skipped today to be here, the one that was supposed to create some new ties to more important people in his company and help him get a leg up promotion wise.

“Tomorrow then.”

Isak halfheartedly entertains the idea of saying no, of saying that this was just a one off thing and that _it’s been really good seeing you Even, but I don’t think I have any time this week to meet you, sorry._ It doesn’t take his brain long to discard that idea.

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Why are you so surprised?” Isak regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. It was an irrelevant question anyway, because he already knows the answer. He already knows that Even thinks he puts work over everything. Up until that moment about three seconds ago, it might have just been true.

Even shrugs. “Do you have any preference of somewhere to go?”

“You’re the local, you tell me.”

“Okay, well, are you willing to eat like _local_ local food or are we gonna be eating like good French food.”

“Whatever you think I’d like best.”

“You’re gonna put that much trust in me?”

“If you kept me alive on your cooking for five years, I’m sure I can trust you to pick out a good not dodgy local restaurant for a single meal.”  
“Okay then.”  
“Okay.”

The air around them feels intoxicating, suddenly heavy on Isak’s shoulders. He wants to reach for Even’s hand, entangle their fingers together just for a moment, so that he can pretend that the last four years of his life didn’t happen, and that they were just two people who loved each other standing in front of a painting. Maybe that was still true.

“Are you still on Facebook? Is that how I text you?”

“More Whatsapp now.”

“Then can I grab your number?” Even pauses, before realising the implication behind what he’s just said. “So I can text you plans for lunch.”

“As subtle as ever, Bech Næsheim.”

“Desperate to a whole new level, remember?”

 

It’s a stupid idea to begin with. He’s never caught the underground train before, but Marie had given him a stern lecture about racking up $200 taxi fares and an octopus card right before he leaves for his lunch with Even, and that scares him enough into trying to catch the train.

It should be simple enough. Marie said it was simple enough. Just follow the lines to Sham Shui Po, which is where he needs to be going. The blue line to Admiralty, change to the red line.

But there are two trains on the platform he’s standing on, and he’s pretty sure Marie said that they’d go in opposite directions to each other, and above one of the doors is a photo of the Wan Chai district fifty years ago, which isn’t helpful at all.

“I need help.”

“What?”

“The train. I need help.”

“What do you mean you need help?”

“I’ve never caught it before.”

“The train is easy. Just get on the one that’s going towards Kennedy Town.”

“How do I know which one is going to Kennedy Town?”

“There’ll be a person over the speakers that will go like _the train to Kennedy Town is now arriving. Please stand clear of the train doors._ and then it will say it again in Mandarin and then again in Cantonese and then whatever train shows up just get on that.”

“Okay.”

“Do you know where to get off?”

“Sham Shui Po?”

“I mean the first time you have to get off. You have to change trains at…”

“Admiralty?”

“Hey, you’ve really got the hang of this. When you get to Admiralty, you just have to walk straight across the platform, and the train just across the way will get you to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Isak laughs as the intercom goes off overhead, saying exactly the words which Even had just said to him moments earlier.

“Everyone here kind of knows it off by heart,” Even interjects, almost as if he was hearing what Isak was thinking. “If you’re catching the train two or three times a day every day, it’s just something that you pick up.”

“Huh.”

There’s a pause. “Do you need me to stay on the phone with you the whole way, or do you think you have it?”

Isak blushes, suddenly thankful that Even isn’t around to see him. “No uh, I think I’m good.”

“Call me when you get to Sham Shui Po though. There are like six exits, and I don’t want you getting lost.”

“Okay, easy.”

“See you in a minute.”

“See you.”

Isak listens to the dial tone for a whole minute before he realises that Even has hung up. He looks down at his phone, realising that there is no contact name for Even, just a mobile number. He moves through the automations of making him one, hesitating for longer than he should when it comes to enter in a contact name.

There was still a contact called _Even Kosegruppa_ in his phone, with Even’s old number from when they used to live together. At the height of his relationship with Even, that named changed to Evy with a little heart emoji next to it, but one drunken night on the bathroom floor of a Seoul hotel changed it back to _Even Kosegruppa,_ because it was the most default thing that drunk Isak’s brain could think of. Isak debates for a second about whether or not he should just add Even’s new number to that, but instead rejects that idea in favour of a whole new contact. A new beginning. Just plain Even.

Hong Kong is efficient as well in the way that they put all of the station names in really bold and hard to miss letters on each of the walls of the stations, and even though Isak has no idea how many stops away from Admiralty he is, he knows that when he sees it, he won’t be able to miss it.

And miss it he doesn’t. Admiralty is a lot bigger than any of the other stations he’s passed, and it seems like the moment the train pulls into the station everyone else on the train with him seems to pile out with him, all heading across the station floor to the stop on the opposite side of the station, just like Even said would happen.

It is a clever game of sardines to get everyone on the next train, even with a few stationmasters holding circular stop signs trying to attempt to curb the oncoming flow of people. Isak misses the first one, which he assumes is the curse of being too polite and letting everyone else go before him, and resolves to shove a little more to get onto the next one, which will come in the next ninety seconds.

His fingers itch to text Even with this minute development, but he also doesn’t want to bother him, so he turns the volume of his true crime podcast up a bit and shoves his way through the crowd of people and onto the train, forcing himself next to one of the doors so that he can see what stations he passes through in wait for Sham Shui Po.

Most people get off at Tsim Sha Tsui, which is a bit of a relief for him, because it means he can see out of both windows. After that, it isn’t really long until he gets to Sham Shui Po, which is two stations after Mong Kok, which was where he was supposed to have lunch yesterday with those businessmen.

He rings Even the moment he steps off of the train. Even picks up on the third ring. “I’m waiting at the top of exit B. There should be signs to get you there.”

“Do you not know your way around this station.”

“Actually, I’ve only been here once or twice.”

“Then where are you taking me?”

“A little restaurant I found like last week. I wanted an excuse to go back, and showing you around the other side of Hong Kong seemed like a good enough one.”

“Of course. Exit B right?”

“Yeah.”

True to his word, Even is standing with his arms folded across his chest at the top of the staircase at entrance B, smiling down at Isak from the top of the seemingly endless flights of stairs. “Hey Isak.”

“Hey Even.”

“Come on then, this way.”

“Are we going straight to lunch first?” Isak asks, attempting to make casual conversation.

Even glances over at him, winking. “I mean, if you want to…?”  
“There’s a but there, isn’t there?”

“There is. Are you super hungry?”

Isak shrugs. “Where are you taking me?”

“Surprise?” Even says, but there’s a note of hesitancy in his voice that tells Isak he is about this close to backing out with whatever this idea is all together.

“I can live with that.”

It’s so similar to the way that Even used to structure date night years ago, with all the surprises and twists and turns. It was always something that Isak loved, even though a lot of the time it was Even introducing Isak to one of his new interests, like the art museum before the start of Even’s first year at uni, or the travelling astronomers that came when Mars got close to Oslo. It may have been five years, but Isak has never expected Even to be anything other than dead on the mark when it came to predicting things that he would like to do, and doing this is going to be the closest he might ever come to replicating the happiest time in his life.

“Sham Shui Po, home to a fantastic computer market, a very famous red light district, and…” Even says, imitating a drumroll on his thighs as they walk around a corner. “A really gorgeous flower market.”

“We’re stopping at a flower market?”

“We’re going to take a langid stroll through a flower market and look at all the beautiful flowers while we walk to lunch.”

“Okay. If… you tell me all about Helsinki.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Do you love it? Is it the best job you’ve ever had? How did you end up in Hong Kong of all places? You know, like a full history.”  
“Yeah well,” Even shrugs offhandedly. “It’s pretty good. I do a lot of the art curating, which is really cool. This is my first big project though, the one I’m managing here. I didn’t really get this part of the job formally though. It was more that the Hong Kong people just really liked the _Hostile Architecture_ idea and so bam, I got to come and do it.”

“That’s really great Even. And you enjoy it?”

“Yeah yeah, it’s great. What about you? Do you enjoy whatever you’re doing?”

Isak shrugs offhandedly. “It’s pretty good. I like the people I work with, and all of my staff. And it’s really cool living in Tokyo now too, like I really like the food, and I do a lot of hiking, and yeah. It’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, that sounds really cool.” Even nods. Isak sighs.

“Isn’t it odd that we are so awkward around each other?”

“What?”

“You know, I spent some of the best years of my life with you, and now we’re struggling to make casual conversation about work of all things.”

“You can’t just say shit like that Even.”

“Why not? It’s true?”

“Is it?”

That’s clearly the wrong thing to say, because Even deflates immediately. “Is it not true for you?”

“It is true Even, okay? It is true. Just–”

Isak doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t get a chance to. Before he knows it, Even is kissing him, one hand coming up to rest on Isak’s cheek and the other moving around his back to bring him in closer. It’s familiar in all the ways it should be. Something in his chest clicks back into place.

And Isak reciprocates. In the middle of a crowded flower market street in Hong Kong, Isak kisses Even back without thinking.

When Even finally pulls away, the hand that is cupping Isak’s cheek brings itself up to brush a small bit of hair out of his eyes. There is a tender look on Even’s face, and it makes Isak’s heart swell in his chest. Too fast.

The softness of the moment is all too quickly replaced with panic, as Isak forces himself to take a step back, and then another, to try and make the fear which has settled around his bones disappear. When it doesn’t, he just knows.

“I’m sorry Even. I can’t do this.”

Isak watches as Even’s heart shatters right before his eyes, the way that his hand makes an aborted attempt to reach out for him. “Isak, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

Isak doesn’t know where he is right now. All he knows is that he can’t be here.

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated :)


End file.
